My Dad Taught Me How to Shave My Legs

I lost my mom when I was 11. In the first few years after her passing, I was on the verge of tears every time an issue associated with moms or women came up. In the beginning, I felt the lack of my mom deeply, in every experience we should have had together. I was lucky to have gotten my first period before she passed, but I'd never used a tampon or medication for cramps, so these were things I later had to bring up to my dad.

One very hot summer day my dad and I were walking downtown together. I was wearing shorts and a tank top, and I had just recently started to notice that I was growing fine, light blonde hair on my legs and darker hair under my armpits.

"Can you teach me how to shave?" I asked shyly.

My dad paused for a few moments before responding, as he often did. "You're too young to start shaving," he said. "You should wait until you're older."

This conversation, like many others, were now delegated to my dad.

I insisted I wanted to learn how to shave. So, my dad sat me down for the most uncomfortable discussion of my life.

My dad, actually, had never been shy about discussing all the things a girl would normally discuss with her mom. My dad said, "You're welcome to shave if you really want to, pumpkin, and I'll teach you how to do it correctly." He used my childhood nickname as if I weren't going through the worst experience of becoming a woman.

He walked me through the fact that many women and young girls feel pressured to share areas of their body (like their legs and underarms) starting at around 10 or 12. He told me that I didn't have to shave just because other girls were doing it, or because the media told me I should. Instead, he said, it was my choice.

Then we awkwardly moved on to whether or not I should shave "down there." Then he went on to explain that my mom had shaved her private parts out of personal choice, but she would get extremely itchy, so he warned me to think carefully about it for that reason.

Soon, we set aside a time for me to practice shaving my legs. My dad and I squeezed into our cramped, apartment-style bathroom with all the supplies. I wore a short pair of shorts to save myself some embarrassment.

Although my dad shaved his face and his head — rather than his legs and armpits — he was skilled at using a razor, and he explained in detail how I could use it successfully. We went over how to reapply shaving cream, how to rinse my razor so it stayed sharp, how to avoid razor burn, and how to avoid accidentally cutting myself.

It never even occurred to me that other girls my age were being taught this skill by their moms, women who had probably done the exact same kind of shaving for many years. Even though he isn't a woman, my dad walked me through the societal pressure that is placed on women to shave their armpits and legs, and reassured me again that it was my choice to make.

Even though he isn't a woman, my dad walked me through the societal pressure that is placed on women to shave their armpits and legs.

Shaving was only the first of many similar conversations to come. At age 14, I had my first HPV prevention vaccination. The same year, he and I had an in-depth sex talk, which walked me through not only pregnancy prevention, but also STIs, sexuality and same-sex attraction, gender identity, relationships, romance, pressure, and consent. Then when I started dating in high school, we had a follow-up to this conversation and talked about getting STI tested, cheating in relationships, and being attracted to more than one person.

My father has never used the word "feminist" to describe himself, although I would categorize him as one. This is because of the way he raised me after my mom passed, and also because he was always open-minded about any issue I brought to him. When my friends started having sex in middle school and I wanted to know if that was wrong, he told me there was no right answer, and taught me that it wasn't okay to shame my friends or call them slurs just because they were experimenting sexually earlier than I was.

He may not have had the correct terminology in place, but my father was teaching me equal rights and feminist ideology before I even knew what that meant. Instead of jumping in with antiquated, sexist advice about how I should dress or who I should date, I know he also always consulted with several people before talking to me, including doing research online.

When I came out as gay, my dad took the time to talk to several gay and bisexual women about the nuances of the issue, like whether or not I should be allowed to have girlfriends over, and how we could discuss safe sex and consent in terms of same-sex relationships.

My dad is different from my mom was, but they shared a lot of the same parenting values, with the most important being that I should feel comfortable making my own decisions and being my own person. Learning not only the mechanics of how to shave, but also that I didn't need to shave and that it was a personal choice, was one of the first experiences I had of my dad reinforcing the idea that I should be whoever I want to be.

My dad is different from my mom was, but they shared a lot of the same parenting values, with the most important being that I should feel comfortable making my own decisions and being my own person.

When my dad took over where my mom left off, I didn't lose my ability to be a woman or a feminist, like people might assume.

Instead, here I am, proud to say that my dad taught me about shaving, along with the most important adolescent lesson: to love myself and accept others.

Alaina LearyAlaina Leary is a Boston-area native who is currently a student in the master's program in Publishing and Writing at her dream school, Emerson College.

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